Saving Grace
by stelljax
Summary: It's been months since I've been home. Since the sun beat down on my face, I've shared a laugh and a drink with my father and friends. Since I've laid under the stars with the man I love. Charming's a war zone now. A place where it's a constant struggle to survive and raise a family in biker paradise. My daughter was taken - and now my only focus is to save Grace.
1. Chapter 1- 7311 Radford Ave

Disclaimer: I acknowledge the fact that I do not own the Sons of Anarchy storyline nor any of its characters. I also acknowledge the fact that I am not making a profit from this fan-fiction.  
>-<p>

**Chapter 1- 7311 Radford Avenue**

It's not every day that I turn left off of Main Street at the light near the corner drug store. It's not every day that I drive half a mile up Farley Drive and make that last right onto Radford Avenue. It's not every day that I come to Charming. 

I guess you could say I'm not your average Croweater-Old Lady. I'm an average working class Irish-American woman. Inked? Yes. Dirty? No. Cold-hearted? Absolutely not. It's painful to see one of my brothers in a box or in handcuffs. It's sickening and heavy to endure all the other SAMCRO womens' drama. It's hard to watch the shit that my family goes through and keep the darkest of secrets inside. And it's absolutely chilling to think that one day my children will be put in the way of danger every morning when they open their eyes. Maybe that's why Tara and I get along so well. Maybe that's why Gemma and I don't. 

When I pulled into the lot of the Teller Morrow Garage, I breathed in an exhaust filled breath of air. I parked my bike near the line of the boy's bikes – all of which looked perfectly waxed and taken care of. It looked relatively dead around the yard. No one was working on cars or bikes. No one was out in the hangover having a smoke or a beer. There wasn't even good-old Gemma milling around on her hypothetical broomstick attacking everyone who crossed her path. Old bitchy bat. Nothing seemed to have changed too drastically so far in the short time that I've been gone. 

_They must be in church._ I thought. I flipped up my beat up old and cheap sunglasses to the top of my head to brush the blonde wisps of hair out of my face. "Excuse me!" a voice called out. "Hey! Excuse me!" I turned around to face a scrawny man with giant fake hands. "Can I help you?" I asked cocking an eyebrow. "What are you doing here? Y-You can't be here. We're closed." I pulled back my neck and looked at him in disbelief. I laughed and walked up to him. "You must be Chuckie." I circled him, examining him from head to toe pretending to check him for weapons. 

I knew he didn't have any. Jax would never let this goon touch one. "Who are you?" he asked shakily. I stand behind him breathing gently and ignore his question. To be quite honest, I was looking for something hilarious to tie to the end of his apron, but had no such luck. He turned around and looked at me with a panic-stricken face. I smiled. "Don't worry about it." I stuck my hand out to make peace. I took his plastic right hand and shook it gently. "How'd you get these?" I acknowledged his hands. 

"It was a gift." Ice was sent down my spine at the sound of her voice. "Gemma." I smiled tightly, knowing I should have expected the Wicked Witch Herself to grace me with her presence. "Sarah." She looked unexcited, and maybe even a little pale in the face. I ignored her triteness "Where's my father and Herman?" "Where do you think?" I nodded coolly twisting my lips a bit. "What are you doing here? You left." "I came back to see my family." I looked her dead in the eyes. She doesn't scare me. She uses her scare tactics to assert her power over everyone. And I for one, do not let her control me. "Wait, wait, whoa…Who are you again?" Chuckie interjected, probably sensing the rising tension between Gemma and I. 

"Chuckie, this is Sarah Telford-Kozik. Chibs' firstborn. And Kozik's wife." Gemma snapped before stomping away. 

"What a pleasure! I didn't know Chibs had a second child! Or that Kozik had a wife for that matter…" he said slightly confused. 

"Yeah I didn't expect you to. I'm also Jax's first friend since birth." I said pushing the door open of the club house. A beer bottle dropped. "SAAAAA!" "Da!" I grinned as I my father engulfed me in a bear hug. 

"Sarah? Sarah's here?!" the guys talked among themselves. "In the flesh brothers! My baby girl's finally come home!" dad exclaimed happily. 

I was embraced by all the boys – Opie, Bobby, Tig, Happy, Piney each crushing my ribs in a hug with a big sloppy kiss on the cheek. Each had the smell of cigarettes, gunpowder and booze on their person. Even old man Clay gave me a hug. "Where's Jax? A-And Herman?" I asked slightly concerned looking around. The air shifted quickly from rejoiceful to slightly uneasy. "Listen, my darlin'…" "No.." I cut off my dad. "Where's my husband and best friend?" My voice faltered, not knowing how to react to the uneasiness that overpowered the room. "Your husband's at St. Thomas Hospital. In critical condition. Jax went to check on him and pick up his boys." 

I slumped onto the cool black leather couch. So much for my happy homecoming.


	2. Chapter 2- Memory Lane

Chapter 2- Memory Lane

I tried to collect myself after I blacked out for a moment – you know, those deep breathing exercises, they teach do you some good "I-I've gotta go see him!" I said breathlessly standing up. Tig and my da each grabbed one of my arms to guide me when I stood up. "Sa, love, maybe sit down. Stay a minute. This is all much to take in at once."

I always liked how they all treated me as their angel. Sometimes they come off hard and cold to the other SAMCRO women. Absolutely, it's no kidding that we're meant to be tough, a bit reckless, and seemingly thickheaded; I've always been different. Like the others, I'm not afraid to tell everyone what I think. But I crumble around family. I have no shame in vulnerability. I'm like your well trained guard dog – quick to act, mean to others, but the biggest mush to the ones it loves. Herman always said that was one of his favorite things about me. So here's my thickheaded-ness shrugging off the hands that supported my body and jogging towards the door. Logically, should I be able to drive? No. I just blacked out. But as a wife, am I obligated to stand by the side of my husband in illness? Hell fucking yeah, for richer or poor; better or worse, right?!

The earth was spinning as I made my way to my bike. "Da! Let me go! I – I have to see him!" I sobbed. I writhed and kicked for a moment trying to break free, but eventually gave up to hang helplessly, limply in his arms. "I have to see him." He comforted me and let me cry on his jacket for the next few minutes. I was told the brunt of the bad news on the way as the prospect – Phil I believe was his name; brute of a boy he was, drove me to the hospital. Needless to say, poor boy's now missing a tooth.

He was hooked up to an oxygen tank. Cuts, abrasions, and bruises were littered all over his body. His leg was casted and an arm was patched up. An IV with a few different tubes ran out of his functioning arm, and his temple was wrapped with bloodied gauze. He was dirty. He looked ridden with the pain he presumably could not feel because of the coma, but at peace as well. The heart monitor echoing his heartbeat became the soundtrack to my life as reality hit me like a semi-automatic box truck.

I stood in the doorway shaking, trying to take in what was in front of me. Jax sat bedside to Herman. In the spot I should've been in from the beginning. _Dammit! Why was I stupid enough to leave? During the beginning of such a crucial time? No! _I breathed deeply to circulate air through my lungs and hopefully relieve pressure in my pounding head.

Jax turned around, expression softened when he saw me, and stood. "Sarah." He whispered. My knees shook a little. I was beginning to fade out again. " .Sh. Shhhhh….Hey it's ok. I'm right here. I'm right here Sa." He took me in his arms. "Jax –" I began burying my face into his chest. He smelled of cigarettes and cheap cologne. "I'm so sorry, Jax. I should've been here…I shouldn't have gone…" "Sarah, you and I both know that you'd be dead if you didn't go. He would be happy going knowing you were safe. He would be even happier knowing you're here now." He looked me in the eyes. He looked hopeful through the resounding grim veil that coated his expression. "He's going to pull through." He told me unconvincingly. "I'll give you a minute. Gotta go bring the boys home." Jackson kissed my cheek and welcomed me home and left me alone in my husband's hospital room.

I don't know how long I've been sitting there. Holding his hand. Memorizing every cut, every word written on his chart. The surgeries he underwent. The internal bleeding he was experiencing. The medicines and machines that were keeping the man I love alive. My eyes grew heavier and heavier as the seconds ticked off the clock behind me. Before I could stop myself I rested my head on the bed next to Herman's forearm: falling asleep.

_The day I left was raining. It was the last day we were in Belfast to go after Abel. I only came along as an extra shot and to see my sister and stepmother. Never saw any action myself that week. We knew O'Phelan was after me now more than ever since my stepmother and sister told him to shove off. I overheard Da and Herman talking to Jax about where to take me since O'Phelan still had men in Belfast even though he was going to the states. _

_Blood boiling, I waited to later that night to bring it up to Herman. I was not leaving him. I was not- not going back to my home in the United States. It was out of the question. "I love you Herman! I am going with you back HOME. HOME is in the United States – with YOU." I cried. "Sarah – they'll kill you. They'll drag you out of wherever you are by your pretty blonde hair down a back alley in some shithole town far away, probably rape you more than once, beat you, and then slit your delicate throat." He stopped, let go of my shoulders that he pinned against the wall, shuddered and let out a long sigh at the thought. "I can fight you know. I'm not as fragile as all of you fuckers make me out to be. Let me defend myself." I snapped. My arms crossed and my expression couldn't have been more grim. "I'm not about to spend The Holy Father only knows how long with bastards I can't trust to begin with just because they can give me a five percent greater chance of keeping me alive…" "But that's WHY you have to stay and go with them! It's more than nothing! They'll keep you ALIVE, Sarah! It's –" "If you loved me at all you wouldn't be doing this." I retorted. He looked at me in the eyes. Rage, aggravation, love, and heartbreak swirled in his hazel eyes. "You'd–"_

_. Without a word, he backhanded me across the face and I felt myself sink to the floor in tears. I stared at him sitting on the edge of our bed, rain pounding against the window pane. Head in his hands, tears streaming down his cheeks. I wrapped the blanket I had over my shoulders tighter and slipped out of the room._

_That was the first time he laid a hand on me. And the last time I saw my husband. _


	3. Chapter 3- 37 Bay View Boulevard

Chapter 3- 37 Bay View Boulevard

The next morning I woke up in a pool of drool under my cheek and the better part of my chin. Tara came in and explained to me the severity of Herman's injuries and his chance of survival which was already slim to begin with. His internal bleeding is severe and he was actually shot a few times in non-life threatening places like the shoulder and thigh. But just because of the internal bleeding, those bullet holes complicate his condition further. At least he's got responding well to the medication going for him.

"If there's anything I can do for you let me know, Sarah. I'm glad to see my best friend back home." She said to me before she left Herman's room. I spent the better part of my morning in the hospital; hungry, smelly, exhausted, and sore from lean-over-sleeping. As I opened his door to leave I heard him take a deep breath and the heart monitor go crazy from inside, and a few frenzied staff members running towards room 319 to resuscitate my Herman. I left when he was stable.

You know, it's depressing walking home. Especially when everything you were expecting to walk home to is in a hospital bed dying. I mean, fuck. What the hell could have happened to him that he was in such bad shape?

I had such exciting news too…

I walked home without incident. A few wetbacks on bikes passed me, but they were probably new enough to not realize who I was. A few blacks passed me in their hoopties blasting music too loud to care who I was. I turned onto Bay View Boulevard where my, new home at the time, permanently sits at the end of the cul-de-sac. I only lived in it for two months before Herman left me behind in Belfast.

I walked up the driveway of 37 Bay View, and dug through my jacket pocket for my key. I looked around sadly at my home. The exact way that I left it – everything neat and tidily in its place, with the exception of the new stench of stale beer, garbage and unwashed dishes coming from the kitchen. Herman didn't clean up from the night before he left to go get blown to bits. Well, in his defense, I guess he wouldn't have time to.

I dropped my bags on the floor in the living room, got myself a glass of water and a bit of breakfast. Home sweet home.

My little nap was cut short by the overwhelming urge to vomit. I ran to the bathroom and just made it before I lost all the contents of my stomach. "Sarah?" In a moment's notice, Jax was by my side pulling my hair back with Tig in the doorway of my bathroom. I turned to vomit again "You doin' ok? Since when are you sick?" I wiped my mouth on the corner of my sleeve after I was finished and washed out my mouth. I looked from Jax to Tig, back to Jax. "I don't know." I lied. "It must be stress from all the shit that's going down since I've been home." They nodded. "Don't try to do too much. Come on, get cleaned up, we came to take ya over to the yard. Grab a home cooked meal, your bike. We have some explaining to do for you." TIg said quietly. I nodded and swallowed hard. The acidity of the vomit burned my throat. God I hate throwing up. But I guess it make's sense considering….

Over at the clubhouse Chuckie served me a home cooked meal. My favorite actually. Da and Jax must've told him to make that. I sat around the table with my family –as unconventional as unconventional families come. Nine burly bikers minus one. I sat in Herman's chair as I listened to what happened the day that Herman got blown to bits.

The fuckers I call family decided to get themselves involved with the Galindo cartel. Shit. Some kind of meet went sour, and these wetback swine set landmines all over the fucking place in the grassy area they decided to have the meet at. One went off close enough to him that it put his life in jeopardy. I cried. I wanted to run. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to punch Clay for putting our men in danger like that with the cartel. Sure, I understood why – because of the money and all, but it was impulsive, stupid, and greedy. I knew that if I run I would be followed. They still don't want me staying alone. We don't know if I'm in the clear yet not because of O'Phelan because he's dead, but now from the IRA. If I threw up then I would have to explain why. If I punch Clay then it would be basically a death sentence.

Maybe I'll just throw up on Clay.

Now that I know that Clay almost got my husband killed, I finished my meal without saying a word to anyone, kissed my da goodnight and told him I would see him at home later, and went back to St. Thomas's to sit at his bedside.


	4. Chapter 4- Hope

Chapter 4- Unwelcomed Visitor

"You know you're going to have to go home sometime, love." Da was standing behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder. "I can't leave him, Da. Not now. Not ever again." I replied not taking my eyes off of his still body. I watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest, knowing that this breathing wasn't on his own. I knew that a machine was helping him.

The past week has been more painful than the four months that I've been away from home altogether. After learning that Clay almost killed Herman, after having no luck searching for a job so far, after trying to figure out how to make ends meet with all the hospital's bills I already had to pay was staggering. "Mrs. Kozik?" I turned to address the voice that was calling me from the doorway. I gasped. "What the hell are you doing here." My da growled. I saw one fist clench, and felt the other on my shoulder tighten. I wasn't sure of his name. Definitely having seen him before and hearing his unmistakable accent I knew he was IRA. "Let me have a word with your daughter Filip." "If I refuse?" I asked a little more nastily than I intended. "That wouldn't be a good choice dearie. Get up." he spat.

Against my better judgment I felt my legs standing up and I placed my bag and jacket on the chair beside Herman's bed. Da squeezed my hand reassuringly. For a second, a flash of fear dashed across his eyes that I've never seen before.

The Irish man led me from my husband's room and down the hall. "What do you want?" I hissed through clenched teeth. "Such fire and passion. Anger." He said reaching to touch a strand of my hair that hung close to my face. I swatted it away, letting him know that he wasn't allowed to touch me. The man was tall. Built. Bald. He had icy blue eyes and an evil wry smile. "How did you find me?" "I'll be the one doing the talking dearie." He stood close. Too close for my liking. He smelled of cigars. His teeth were somewhat of a pale yellow and his face needed a good shave. "Do you value your life in Charming?" I didn't answer. "Well? Do you?"

I nodded furiously. "Aye." I was fighting back the urge to cry with every ounce of my being. _Stay calm, Sarah. He can smell fear. They all can._ He smirked and exhaled a smug chuckle. "Then listen closely. You know O'Phelan's been searching the world for ye. You know O'Phelan's dead." "What're you playing at?" I sneered. "If you value your life and your family, the IRA is willing to propose a proposition." "Go on." I wanted to see where this is going. "Very well, well then, you'll never hear a word from us again, never touch a hair on your pretty little head again _IF_ you give us your firstborn daughter in return." I laughed. "You've got to be out of your fucking mind!" I exclaimed. "I'm not pregnant!" "Sit on it, Sarah. We will give you time to give us your decision." He mused as he walked away from me. He gestured to my da when he passed the room.

That bastard must be off his fucking rocker if he thinks I'll give up my firstborn in exchange for my own life. "What'd that filthy piece of shit want." Da asked as I sat on the edge of the bed when I came back into the room. "The Irish made a deal with me, da." I looked at him wide-eyed and half hysterically. "Yah? What that be?" "They want my firstborn in exchange for me, da."

All he said was "Fuck." "I would never, da. How could I hand my firstborn over to those monsters?" I asked. "I know, Sa. I know. We'll worry about it when the time comes." He stood. "First we have to worry about getting your old man here healthy." Da gave me a hug and a kiss on the forehead. "Don't be too late now that those bloody bastards know you're home, eh?" "Aye, Da. I love ya." I replied. "I love ya too baby girl." He smiled at me before he left. "If only you were awake so I could tell ya, Herman." I whispered to him, patting his foot.

He has been doing better. But not well enough where they think they can take him out of the coma. Tara and the doctor taking care of Herman said that he should luckily, not suffer any brain damage. The chance of survival went up ten percent since last week. I don't expect to move mountains, but I have a lot of faith.

I placed a hand on my belly. It's grown a bit more. Feeling it grow gave me warmth and hope that everything would go back to normal again. God, I hoped so. I kissed Herman's temple, and snuggled up to his functioning side. "You'll be a great father, Herman. I love ya." I whispered.

The heart monitor's paces quickened slightly, which startled me a bit. I smiled, closed my eyes and rested my head on his shoulder. He can hear me. Before I've finally drifted off to sleep, Herman's free hand grabbed mine. I half expectantly looked up to see his eyes open, but they weren't. _He's alive in there. I know it._


End file.
